“Drink! Drink! Drink!”

Bodies carpeted the dirt as soldiers toppled, the bonfire throwing foxfire light over faces red as boiled shrimp.

A few with iron livers sat in a huddle, betting with slurred grins on who would drop first.

“Hey, look at Binbin—what a loser.”

A-Wei jabbed a finger at the swaying Binbin, voice dipped in mockery, lip curled with a flick of disdain.

Binbin folded like a cut kite and hit the ground, beyond words, his body past its limit.

A round-built soldier didn’t like the sneer, his big paw patting A-Wei’s thigh—barracks sign language for a sarcastic slap.

“A-Wei, that mouth means you’re brave now?”

A-Wei flicked the hand away, a gnat brushed off, disdain written plain as dust.

“Jie-ge, you know me—bravest guy here, okay?!”

Jie-ge’s eyes flashed, beast-light in the fireglow.

“Heh… super brave, huh? Then why the shy act?”

“How can you smear me out of thin air… this is drinking business, not shyness!”

Then came muddled lines—“Jie-ge don’t,” “Binbin stop doing this every time,” “I’m dead and it’s all your fault, please”—that sent laughter rolling like waves.

Around the fire, the night swelled with cheap joy and rising sparks.

“Sh-sh-shut up! No laughing!”

An older soldier kept chuckling, crow’s feet deep as knife-cuts, ignoring A-Wei’s face darkening like storm clouds.

“Hahaha! Why can’t we laugh?”

“Was there anything improper, huh?”

“Remember your face when you saw your sister and that middle-school teacher riding a bicycle?”

“What nonsense! A teacher and a woman riding a bicycle—where’s the propriety in that?!”

“And that vow to add two toilets to the dorms, remember?”

“Well… that’s right too… it’s all fine, just don’t stir up trouble!”

Two questions, two answers, and the old hand howled, clutching his belly like he’d heard a once-in-a-century joke.

“Hahahahahahaha! A-Wei, you kill me.”

“Look at those answers, look at that face—are those even things a person would do?”

Tongue-tied, A-Wei raised the bottle and poured, his flush blooming like paint under a brush.

He listed to the side and fell into Jie-ge’s arms, index finger drawing circles on that broad chest.

“Hey, Jie-ge~ you wanted it, right?”

“If you want it… I’ll let you have your fill.”

“A-Wei, no!”

“A… A-Wei, get away!”

Jie-ge, calm on any other day, shoved him hard tonight, anger flaring like sparks from the pit.

A-Wei hit the ground, eyes blank, a little reel of their happy days flickering through his skull like lantern slides.

He snapped back, ready to curse him out and then cry on cue.

“Jie-ge, you—fu—”

The curse jammed in his throat.

His flush went plum-dark, and fear glazed his pupils like ice.

Jie-ge had no head.

His body still stood as if pushing, a headless statue in orange firelight.

Beside him, a half-man-tall Daemon chewed Jie-ge’s skull with relish, wet sounds snapping like twigs.

The others were dead too.

Not as mangled; something razor-sharp had slit them open in an instant, and they sank before pain reached the brain.

“Jie—ge—!”

His roar dragged the Daemon’s gaze to him.

It tossed the head aside; the half-gone face still wore terror like a mask.

The Daemon looked, and A-Wei’s charge curdled back into his chest like cold soup.

He knew he couldn’t drop this thing alone.

Dying with Jie-ge, fine; but vengeance mattered more, heavy as a stone in his gut.

There was one path: find General Wang.

Only he could cut down a Daemon like pulling weeds.

Plan set, A-Wei quit standing dumb.

General Wang was gods-knew-where, but right now he just couldn’t get caught.

He edged back half a step; the Daemon stayed, coiled like a watching wolf.

Like a beast, he thought, hope fluttering like a moth.

For once he blessed the camp drills on evading predators.

Don’t bolt, don’t turn and bare your back; keep small, keep slow, and the beast won’t pounce.

He slid another inch, aiming to ghost out of its sight, then run like a shadow.

Reality bit hard, teeth to bone.

This wasn’t a common beast; this was a Daemon.

“Roar!”

The bellow hit him like a drum.

A-Wei skittered, feet scuffing twice, then sprawled.

Luck soured; his ankle twisted with a hot snap.

He couldn’t rise; fear iced his limbs, pinning him like a nail.

Death walked closer on soft feet.

He bit down and yanked out his only weapon, a Magnum-like revolver heavy as a brick.

His finger flicked the safety; a clear chime rang like glass.

“Universal Anti-Daemon Annihilation Round—Remaining: One.”